


The Ambassador's Daughter

by acollectionofficsandshit



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F/M, Fancy dinners, Not Beta Read, Self-Indulgent, The Ambassador's Daughter AU, fancy dresses, pre-coronavirus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acollectionofficsandshit/pseuds/acollectionofficsandshit
Summary: This is a super self-indulgent, silly one shot! Just embrace it?
Relationships: Max Verstappen/Original Female Character(s), Max Verstappen/Reader, Max Verstappen/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Ambassador's Daughter

I’d been staring out the window behind a random member of parliament for about 10 minutes, oblivious and deaf to the noise and commotion of yet another stuffy, fancy gala I was obligated to be attending as the only child to the American ambassador within England.

It wasn’t that I hated everything about the endless stream of galas, fancy dinners, and even the occasional traditional ball, the dresses and the shoes were always the upside, but I had no taste for the food and had trouble watching what I said to ambassadors for other countries, members of parliament, the prime minister, and even once the Queen.

My mother said I was just precocious and that the guests found my directness enchanting, my father said that the charm had worn off now I was 20. So I was expect to keep my answers short, my questions trivial, and my smile wide. As the daughter of an ambassador, I had grown up surrounded by and deeply interested by the politics that governed the world, with endless questions about religions, cultures, and war. My father never failed to answer my questions unless we were with company, so I had resorted to gazing out the window.

The flash of cameras outside caught my attention and broke my moment of self pity. Turning my face to my father’s, I raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the window. My father shook his head and motioned for me to sit back straight in my chair. I rolled my eyes but followed suit, the heavy and restrictive gown I’d be laced into tonight, although one of the more gorgeous I’d worn, was tugging to sit back properly.

I focused instead on the plate in front of me, picking at the tiny portions of fancy food I really had no interest in eating. I didn’t glance up, knowing my father would be glaring in my direction. But my head snapped up when I heard the doors open and the room fall silent as a newcomer was gestured towards our table and to the seat beside me. How had I managed to not notice the empty chair to my right?

I knew the boy as soon as he settled down beside me, smiling warmly at the entire table while apologizing for his lateness. My father, never one to forgive lateness, waved away the apologies with a carefree hand and a word of welcome.

“Max Verstappen, why are you at a gala?” I asked before I could catch myself, “you could have opted out, it’s god awfully boring and stuffy, plus the food is absolute shit.” I heard my father’s exasperated sigh accompanied by my mother’s gasp of horror. I tried to suppress a laugh, but failed to, at the stunned look on Max’s face, his blue eyes wide in surprise and his mouth hanging slightly open.

Everyone at the table stared him down, waiting in silence for his reaction when he threw his head back and let out a loud laugh, and continued to laugh until he was close to tears. The rest of the table had returned to talking once the possibility of an offended celebrity had abated but I had crossed my arms and frowned at the brown haired, surprisingly bright eyed driver.

“What’s the frown for?” Max asked, as he wiped away tears and tried to stop laughing.

“You’re laughing at me. I don’t like being laughed at,” I said irritably. That only made him laugh again.

“Bloody hell, I’m not laughing at you, I’ve just never heard a truer statement made at a gala before,” he said, offering me his hand. “I’m Max, but I guess you already know that.”

“Yeah, I do, I’m-” I started to say before Max interrupted.

“I know who you are, you’re the American ambassador’s daughter.” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“And why in the hell do you know that?” I asked, a little taken aback. He just pointed at the name card in front of me.

“Same last names, it’s not rocket science to put the two together. Plus, the papers love you. But lord, your father is the most mild-mannered person I’ve ever met and you, you’re a little hellion.”

“Do you even know what hellion means?” I asked rudely, quite aware of the fact that Max Verstappen, Red Bull’s wonder boy was mocking me.

“Now I do,” he said smugly, reaching out for the glass of champagne in front of him and taking a sip.

“I’m not a hellion,” I said, still smarting at his comment, “‘little hellion’ my ass.” Max just grinned at me. “Stop smiling at me! You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re a brat,” Max said before nodding in thanks to the waiter that brought out the main course.

“Oh yeah, like I’ve never heard that one before,” I scoffed, “why don’t you just go ahead and tell me that I’m spoiled and the only way I’ll get anywhere in life is if my daddy pays the way for me. Just go for the full holy trinity of ambassador’s children’s insults.”

“I only said you were a brat; I know you’re not dumb. Everyone knows that the American ambassador’s daughter is going to the University of Oxford next year. The papers love it. A party girl with money and a brain,” Max said.

“I’m not a party girl,” I said and pushed away the empty dessert plate in front of me.

“Oh, social media and any tabloid would beg to differ,” Max laughed.

“Whatever,” I said and rolled my eyes at him. Everyone around us was standing up to go dance on the floor outside the now open double doors that led to the billowing white tent with heaters that covered the dance floor and some of the expansive snow-covered gardens.

“Want to dance?” Max offered me his hand. I grinned up at him, an idea having blossomed in my head, egged on by boredom, knowing how much it would bother my father, and just how attractive the Dutch driver standing in front of me was. “That look kind of scares me,” he said jokingly but didn’t move to lower his hand.

“Good. It should. I have a better idea than dancing, come on,” I glanced around the room to make sure everyone was preoccupied before grabbing Max’s hand and dragging him toward the door that led out of the ballroom and into the rest of the house. “Wait, shit, stay here, hold on,” I said, dropping Max’s hand.

“Yes ma’am,” he laughed as he watched me gather what I could of my heavy crimson colored gown into my arm and dash back into the packed ballroom. Grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne from the closest table I did my best to rush back out of the room in my six-inch heels.

I paused in the doorway, my heart pounding in my chest and the iced glass of the bottle still managing to chill my hand through my thick white nearly arm length gloves. Max was leaning against the staircase, running a hand through his neatly combed back hair and looking up at the painted ceiling.

Bracing myself before I lost courage, I kicked off my shoes, shoving them behind a potted plant in the foyer and grabbing his hand. He raised an eyebrow at the bottle of champagne but didn’t say a word, letting me drag him down the hall towards a closed door.

“Where are we going?”

“Sh!” I held a gloved finger to my lips as I glanced around making sure that none of the hired help was watching before I opened the door and dragged Max in behind me.

“We’re going to the coat closet. That makes a lot of sense,” Max said, laughing as he looked around at the piles of women’s furs and men’s woolen coats.

“Hush, and open this,” I pushed the bottle into his hands and yelped in surprise when the top shot off and hit the ceiling. We took turns drinking straight from the bottle, the chilled bubbles going straight to my head. Neither of us said a word, but slowly, with each sip, we moved closer to one another until my arm was pressed against his tux jacket. Max was the one that broke the silence.

“Would you mind if I took off my jacket? It’s hotter than hell in here.”

“Not if you don’t mind if I take off my gloves,” I said. Max nodded.

“Deal.” We fell back to silence as he dumped his jacket carelessly on the floor and I peeled my gloves off before throwing them on top of the pile of furs.

“Could you help me get my bow tie off? Somehow, I can never seem to manage it,” Max asked and I shrugged my shoulders, turning to undo the tie for him. But once my fingers brushed his neck, everything changed. One moment we were innocently shedding tux jackets, white gloves, and bow ties while the next, his arm was around my waist and both my hands were gripping at his hair.

We were face to face, so close our noses nearly touched. His eyes were bluer at this closer vantage, the freckles on his cheeks more pronounced.

“Hi,” I whispered, noticing that our lips could easily touch.

“Hello,” he responded, his grip on my waist only tightening as he pulled it tight against his hips.

“The ambassador’s daughter and a Formula 1 driver in the coat closet,” I said.

“The gloveless ambassador’s daughter and the half-dressed Formula 1 driver,” he amended.

“With an empty bottle of Champagne,” I added.

“What would David Croft and Martin Brundle say?” Max asked, his eyes taking in my entire face and flickering down to linger on my lips.

“What would the Queen say? Or worse, what would Christian Horner say?” I said, making us both laugh.

“Just think of how the tabloids would spin this.”

“I’m terrified imagining social media catching wind of it.”

“This is hardly a scandal in the making,” Max offered.

“Then let’s make a scandal,” I said, pushing him back onto the pile of furs. His white collared shirt had become untucked and his bow tie hung untied around his neck and I could see how hard he was breathing.

“It’s still hardly a scandal,” Max said before pulling me down on top of him, my wide skirt pooling around me, “now it’s a touch more of a scandal.”

“I’d say it’s still pretty innocent,” I said, hoping to encourage him to make the move I was hesitant to.

“Innocent? I’ll show you innocent,” Max buried his hands in my hair before bring his lips up to meet mine. I quickly lost track of the time, as I unbuttoned his shirt, and he kissed his way down my neck to meet the neckline of my dress. I sat up and pulled his lips back to mine, enjoying the rush of our hands on each other and the chance that the coat closet door might swing open at any moment.

Before either of us could let it reach the point, we both craved, the door did in fact swing open. We tried to jump apart, which only resulted in both of us toppling off of the fur covered sofa and onto the floor, before realizing who had opened the door.

Daniel Ricciardo was standing in the doorway and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “My bad, I’ll just come back later” he said laughing at the two of us laying in a pile on the floor.

“Please for once in your life, fuck off Daniel,” Max said, grabbing a random minx wrap from the sofa and flinging it at him but not before Daniel had closed the door and walked away.

“I’d say it’s a scandal now,” I whispered against Max’s lips, making us both dissolve into laughter.

“If every scandal involved a gorgeous girl is a tight red dress laying on top of me and a pile of furs, I’d be involved in a lot more scandals,” Max said, before his lips were back against mine.

“If you want a real story for the press, you could let me know the full list of drivers and teams present tonight and I’ll go kiss one of them next! Or you can?” I offer with a teasing grin, wagging my eyebrows wildly so he knows I’m kidding and I have no intention of moving from where I am until I have to.

“Let’s just stop talking now, shall we?” Max whispers, before we’re tumbling back against the piles of furs and coats spread across the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your comments, thoughts and suggestions are always welcomed and appreciated! Thank you for making it this far in the first place!


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